Ivory and Wire and Pearls
by branbridge
Summary: "Bloody hell, Mia, stop antagonizing people with weapons." She rolled her eyes from where she was being held, the knife digging into her neck, "Maybe you should stop letting me do it then."- Dimension jumping isn't an exact science. In which Hermione and Draco find themselves thrust into Gotham criminal underground. (Rated for a reason)
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters mentioned, I'm simply taking them out the box and playing with them.

**A/N:** This is an AU fic. Most points will better explained in the next chapter, that I've already written.

This will be a Joker/Hermione fic with an intense Draco/Hermione comfort/understanding friendship.

* * *

The arrival of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy was not a grueling affair on their part or anyone else's for that matter. Their arrival was more of a hop or a skip, rather than an arrival. A leap through space and time and perhaps more, but Hermione is not quite sure.

However, she was sure of three other things.

One, her plan had worked wonderfully! They had successfully traveled through the fabric of the space continuum- to a world, a near perfect replica of their own. (It wasn't all that different for an alternate universe, she still heard the comforting whispers of death- like the sweet murmurs of a lover- and Draco could still hear the ever steady beat of her heart. Nothing important had changed.)

Two, Grimmauld Place was no longer grim- old it was still, but grim it was not- the hallways no longer magically extended or haunted by neither the screaming of mad portraits nor the suffocating blanket of tangible sadness. Nor were any Malfoy Manors in creation, or Spinner End; the latter had caused both Draco and Hermione to mourn their beloved potions master and dear friend once more.

Three, the very ground of the planet hummed with raw magic, but not in the way Hermione was used to. Whereas she was used to the constant, warm hum of wizarding magic, this felt… feral and more potent, something almost tainted in comparison to the magic of their (or rather pervious) reality. The magic buzzed around them and soaked into their bodies with every breath they took, it was almost as if it was _happy_ they were there.

Instead of dwelling on this she grabbed Draco's hand with little preamble, and apparated with the trademark _pop_.

Several apparitions later there were fast on their way to a new life. With forged birth certificates, work credentials, two Swiss bank accounts (both of which held a near offensive amount of money), and school records- according to which they were both quite the prodigies (thank Merlin for, liberally used, memory charms).

After which they quickly went out to find their self-proclaimed home of several years during her childhood- if one could call the years spent inside the walls a childhood (Draco doesn't; neither does Hermione, not anymore that is) - only to find nothing.

Oh, how she had cried at the sight of the beautiful lake and ruins that once was filled to the brim with magic and pleasant, and some less pleasant, memories. Draco had stared soberly at the crumbled stones and let a few stray tears fall.

However, after a near obscene amount of tears they had moved on.

Mental walls were rebuilt and destroyed and rebuilt again (studier this time); and the group of red heads she passed in the airport and the raven haired, forest eyed barista had absolutely nothing to do with it. (_Hermione you're a bloody terrible liar,_ Draco had told her when he caught the longing looks she sent towards both. She had huffed at his audacity and flicked a piece of her blueberry muffin at him.) Nor did the older silver-blonde couple on the aeroplane affect either of them, and the snarky business man with black, slightly greasy hair who sold them their new home- Draco insisted on purchasing an entire apartment complex in a New Jersey city called Gotham- didn't cause their stomachs to clinch in sadness.

A few years and several job later they were finally settled.

After numerous small government and developing jobs Hermione had published her first paper on condensed matter. Afterwards, she had made leaps and bounds in the fields of mathematics and physics, she had wrote several papers and one book over the uses of logically applied metaphysics and organic chemistry in both everyday life and war-time weaponry.

Draco on the other hand took to business like a fish to water. He dominated the beauty industry; using the help of Hermione they were able to artificially recreate the effects Beautification potions, such as Blemish Blitzer and Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, in the form of perfumes, creams, shampoos, etc. (Hermione had adamantly refused to waste their supplies when they could recreate the same affect using other means.) He, also, began to provide medical remedies such as burn paste and calming draughts- again using Hermione's knowledge to reproduce the same effects as magical elements using synthetic means.

Most times they thrived in their newfound success and happiness.

Other times Draco's eyes would go dull and hazy, and his sharp wit would disappear and he'd lean against her shoulder as they over looked the city from their balcony. She'd make him a cuppa during those times and they'd talk all night- keeping each other from the nightmares with philosophical discussions and bad jokes.

Sometimes, she'd hit him with teaspoons, and others she'd throw utensils at him in a fit of rage, but it would always be spoons. Hermione told Draco it was symbolic; souls were like bowls- holding emotions and memories like soup- and bowls were spoons without the handles. And a certain ginger that had the emotional range of a teaspoon had _nothing_ (everything) to do with it.

Draco would tease her, on those nights when they drank tea together, that someone would come and glue back together the shattered pieces of her bowl- that they would mend her with liquid gold and that she would shimmer in the light. _And your brilliance will be so dazzling_, Draco dramatically exclaimed one night,_ even if I not the eyes to see, I would be able to bask in it._

Hermione had rolled her eyes in reply and went to take a shower.

Several years had passed and grey eyes had finally regained their spark and their caramel counterparts their warmth.

And life goes on.

* * *

Review with who you want Draco to end up with. (Suggestions can be slash of otherwise.)

**Next: **More explanations and sad relationships that rip your heart out. (Not nearly as boring or angst-y as it sounds.)


	2. The Life Of Hermione Granger

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters mentioned, I'm simply taking them out the box and playing with them.

**Warnings:** Mentions of Harry/Hermione relationship, sex and death. Mildly angst-y in parts.

**A/N: **Explanations and implied stuff in this chapter. Also, I really enjoy Harmony so I chose to write it rather than Romione, and it broke my heart to kill Harry here.

* * *

The life of one Hermione Jean Granger is not a particularly kind one, nor is it a fair one.

It begins a few years after her birth, three to be precise, when she levitated her crib. It continues for years- at age five she set a bully's hair on fire, shortly after her parents took her out of school. At six her parents begin to argue, all the windows in their neighborhood would shatter, they would move the next week.

At eleven she received a letter.

A beige letter tied with a strip of green satin and sealed with red wax. The colors of mean pranks and hurtful lies- _daddy and mommy still love each other, honey_- and she remembers crying to her mother, _why would they do that?_

A week later an old slender woman stood at her door step. McGonagall was her name and she was dressed in something from the Saturday cartoons Hermione watched occasionally.

_I'm witch and so are you_, she had told Hermione in their dining room.

_Prove it,_ she had retorted.

Prove it she did, and suddenly Hermione's life made sense.

Her parents were all too ecstatic at the idea of sending her away to learn control over her powers. So was she.

So, at the tender age of eleven, Hermione Jean Granger was tossed into a world of trolls and twenty foot snakes, time travel, dragons, battles and death.

They were children, children fighting against darkness while the adults cowered and flinched away; all the while said adults, also, discredited their words and painted them in negative light.

That's when she realized- a sudden realization that shook her to her fifteen year old bones-, _the wizarding world is crooked. Terribly so._

She supposes she could couch the blame on Tom Riddle Sr. and Merope Gaunt, but she feels like she cannot. (Merope was not in the right state of mind and Tom Riddle Sr. was only a muggle reacting to being drugged with a love potion.) That leaves the Orphanage- where he was separated from the other children for being different and denied even the basic love- but again, they're only _muggles_. Perhaps it's Dumbledore's fault then- for leaving a child in abusive hands, when he _knew_ he could help.

She knows somewhere in her heart that it's not anyone's fault aside from Wizarding society in general, but she's bitter and needs someone to place the blame upon.

But she digresses.

Year after year she fought beside her best friends, and year after year they became her _family-_ not the ones who screamed at each other while they thought she was asleep, or the ones who cringed whenever she would magically clean the dishes.

And at the age of eighteen they became all she had left.

Their final year together was hard- Ron ran away and Harry left her, not in the same way as Ron, but left all the same- and she lost more than most in the finale battle.

To understand her pain and loss, one must understand her relationship with Harry Potter.

Throughout the years she stood by him, sometimes she was the only one. She saved his life and he hers- he was her anchor and she loved him. She _loved_ him, loved him more than anything.

It began after Cedric's death, he would sleep curled up next to her to stop the nightmares; no one else could prevent the nightmares that plagued him- regardless, of the amount of times Ginny tried.

However, after Sirius's death it became more. (_He had sobbed as she held him. He reached up, his hands shaking and eyes red rimmed, and kissed her. She kissed back- their kisses were raw and needy, teeth scraping and swollen, bitten lips- and next thing they knew her pants were pushed down and he was taking her against the bookshelf._)

Remus had looked mortified when they had walked into the Order meeting smelling vaguely of fornication, hair messier than normal and half-assed glamours covering their hickies and swollen lips.

When the werewolf questioned them, Harry had replied, "We're only looking for comfort." Hermione had nodded, "Its only sex, Remus." He had walked away shaking his head mumbling something about Sirius and Marlene McKinnon.

(No one else asked about them, no one else dared.)

Over the next year they only became closer, they weren't in love- at least he wasn't- and they didn't have a _label_. (He craved the beauty of Cho Chang and the laughter of Ginevra Weasley, not the familiar comfort of Hermione Granger. She never blamed him though.)

She had lost count of the amount of times he had fucked her into his mattress, or how many times he ripped her clothes off, pushed her skirt up to take her on the wall, on the door, on the floor. Simply because the amount doesn't matter, it's the small moments they share before, after and during their intimate moments that made the difference.

The small winks he'd give her when he went to the library to help her with research- it always ended with them fucking against the mahogany table- or the laughter they share when they bump heads leaning in too fast. The way he caressed and kissed the long scar that marred her torso and in between her breasts, and the trusting smiles they shared before she would get up to mend her ripped knickers and slip off to shower.

(_It wasn't just sex for her anymore._)

Their relationship only grew when Ron left- _He ran a hand through his messy hair and grabbed her hand. He pulled her into a standing position and placed one hand on her hip and another grasping her left hand. She shifted her right to lie on his arm and gave him a small smile. He grinned and moved her body in time with his own. Soon they were moving as one entity and laughing. _And after her torture at Malfoy Manor their bond had deepened to levels that surpassed most marriages- she had once caught Fred and George talking about them with could only refer to as kindred understanding.

However, it ended all too quickly.

_Harry had won against Voldemort, but missed seeing the form of Dolohov who held his wand, poised and ready to strike their hero. He hadn't the time to throw up a shield as the death eater shouted out his he; quickly Harry fell victim to the curse that hit her in the department of mysteries._

_Hermione had turned her wand on Dolohov and screamed out the killing curse. He fell slumped to the ground and Hermione turned on her heels and ran to her bleeding love, she pulled his body towards her own in a soft embrace, "Harry, stay with me, please, I need you." _

_His breathing was shallow, his voice cracked and soft, "M-mya, t-take the hallows. Yo-you're the only one I t-trust to not t-"_

_Harry let out a wet cough as blood flowed from his lips. Quickly, too quickly, he slumped over, limp in her arms, breathing no more._

"_NO. No, no, no! Please, no, you have to stay! Please. I love you. I love you, so bloody much, Harry Potter. Don't you dare leave me here!" Her voice had risen higher than normal and could be clearly heard over the deadly silence that had followed after Harry's fall. "Don't you _dare_ leave me here; I can't live without you, _please_ stay with me!"_

_He didn't reply and she let out a hopeless sob as she clutched to his still-warm body. She rocked him in her arms as she pushed away the sweaty hair from his forehead and out of his eyes. They were still open; she sobbed as she softly closed the dull green and laid chaste kiss his cold lips._

_He was dead._

The next night she held all three Deathly Hallows on her bed. She had fallen asleep curled with the soft hum of their power.

When she had awoken she had decided that she would either destroy all of them, if possible, or she would bear their curse so no one could abuse their power and start another war.

The day of her choice was the day death came to her.

He was different than she expected- he was tall and slender, he bore a black cloak and dark leather boots (she dare not ask what the leather was made of, she didn't want to know), his hair reminded her of Harry and his eyes of Snape. He stood in front of her and offered two chains.

"_You may gift two with the power of eternity, only two, for they will stay with you until the world turns to ash."_

_She shook her head and replied, "I have no need."_

_He simply placed the necklaces on the bed- each gold chain held the symbol of the Hallows on the end- "I am kind, but not merciful; I will not let you go, you are the true Master of Death."_

_She closed her eyes and shook her head, but when her eyes reopened he was gone._

It wasn't until she turned twenty-two that she realized herself looking not a day over nineteen. She wasn't the only one who stopped aging though- Draco Malfoy looked barely eighteen for nearly six years before she found him. When she had met him in a New York muggle subway she had been floored, it wasn't until she saw his eyes that she understood.

When she caught the multihued gaze she had flashed back to Slughorn's Christmas party and the interesting conversation she had held with Sanguini about the eyes of his kind.

_"When you turn into a vampire, the eyes are the only part of your body that is not perfectly preserved; instead they adapt to your life and add to themselves. Time will eventually dull the memories of your human life, but your eyes will always tell your story._

_"No vampire's eyes are the same," he continued, "as we have all went through different experiences and are unique individuals."_

They quickly bonded over their losses and the curse of immortality, and after nearly five years of living under the radar of the magical world she offered him one of the necklaces. He accepted and soon found that he could once again walk under the sun.

After nearly ten years they moved in with each other and she finally opened up about what she had with Harry. Draco let her cry on his shoulder and then shared his own story about how Pansy had rejected him after she found out what he was.

They were two souls the world romanticized- Hermione Granger, war heroine, lover of Harry Potter, disappeared years ago; Draco Malfoy, spy for the Order, elusive Malfoy heir.

Two wilted souls in agony and desperate for comfort.

For a time they were content.

* * *

It was a cold day in October - it was the twentieth annual Samhain ritual since the final battle in fact- when they attacked.

Squibs using muggle technology bombed and shot wizards and witches during Samhain. (It quickly became known as "The Squib Uprising" by the ministry, "The Rebellion against Magical Tyranny" by the rebels and Draco simply called it "some seriously fucked up shit".)

Their attacked caused the magical energies harnessed during the fertility rituals to run rapid. This produced a massive wave of infertility within not only the magical community, but for muggles as well. Quickly any woman able to become conceive quickly fell victim to miscarriages or still births.

It was only a week after the initial attack that Draco and Hermione had began planning for their departure.

They quickly emptied their bank accounts; all of them, including the ones they inherited. Afterwards they broke into the abandoned Hogwarts and taken all the magical objects they could find. They harvested the basilisk left in the chamber, as well as collected what they could find the forbidden forest.

They ransacked all properties left to them, including all seven of Malfoy's huge manors, Grimmauld Place and Spinner's End.

They, then, begun buying up hoards of potions and magnitudes of common and rare ingredients, for they did not know if where they would end up held magical plants or beasts.

Hermione had taken all the books in all of their nine homes and had duplicated copies of all the books from the Nott's, Lestrange's, Flint's and ministry's libraries.

After collected hundreds of thousands upon thousands of books from across the globe that she had packed away in a bottomless trunk, she quickly began to pack away all magical items in another, smaller trunk. She had then packed their potions and ingredients in a bag that strongly resembled the beaded bag she once used during the war, the only difference was the color and enforced durability.

Draco on the other hand was in charge of making sure his huge collection of muggle cars and motor bikes were packed away, along with purchasing and packing away huge amounts of wands, and wand wood and cores. He, also, spilt up their fortunes into two groups, one went into a bottomless handbag for herself and a bottomless wallet for him- both had multiple anti-theft and tracking charms plastered upon them.

It took them nearly two years to pack up everything and prepare the ritual to leave.

Luckily it took two years and twenty-seven days before the planet could no longer support itself. Without new bodies to channel energy into, the trees died, the grass browned, the water ever so slowly evaporated.

Without any living friends or family, Draco and Hermione didn't bother with goodbyes.

They placed all their belongings within the chalk circle and hopped into their neighboring dimension.

* * *

Again, I'm still learning English, so I apologize for mistakes.

_Review for faster chapters._

**Next:** She meets Joker at a party.


	3. Party Crasher

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters mentioned, I'm simply taking them out the box and playing with them.

**Warning:** Cursing

**Beta:** My irl friend Kurtis BETA'D for me. Thank you!

**A/N:** I decided to put more Draco and Hermione interaction into this chapter, but sorry not the Joker is at the end of this chapter! It's a bit cliche as they meet at one Bruce Wayne's parties, but in this story Hermione has met and _hates_, well greatly dislikes, Bruce for some of his actions in the past. (I'll explain it in other chapters.)

.

* * *

"Draco Malfoy, you piece of absolute _shit_!"

Draco didn't bother looking up from the file he was reviewing, "And what, pray tell, did I do to bring on this, Mia, darling?"

"You accepted _Bruce Wayne_'s invitation," she spat out the billionaire's name, "to his '_pat me on the back, I'm a good person_' party."

"Is that all, Mia, I'm too busy to dis-," Draco started, but the growl that escaped the brunette's lips was enough to shut him up.

"You. Accepted. _His._ Invitation," she emphasized every word with a sneer, "Without. My. Permission."

He looked up at his fiery friend of several years, and grimaced at the expression of loathing that twisted her features, "We'll talk about this over lunch, which I'll be taking you out for in two minutes."

She narrowed her head, but nodded before brushing imaginary dust from her loose, white blouse, "Yes, we will. Where will we be dinning at?"

Draco ranked his hand though his hair before beginning to stand, "Nuda's, it's small and has great food."

"This," Hermione gestured at Draco's standing form before sliding on a pair of oversized sunglasses, "Will not be solved with a simple lunch."

Draco perched his own aviator shades on top his head and rolled his sleeves as they stepped into the elevator to go down to the ground level. He sighed heavily, "Wouldn't dream of it, Mia."

* * *

Hermione walked in front of him, occasionally growling and mumbling under her breath about playboy brats.

Draco took the time to compare his friend to the eleven year old he used to make fun of.

She had gotten a lot taller over the twenty of so years he had known him, her face slimmer, her body fuller, her knowledge tripled and her magic increased tenfold. Her thin shapely calves shown off in her jean capris; her short sleeved blouse tucked into her shorts, exposing expanses of glamoured skin.

The clacking of her nude pumps against the pavement gave away her obvious anger and Draco bit back the urge to shudder at the amount of magic that came off her in waves.

"May want to cool the vibes, Mia," When the witch turned to look at him expectantly, Draco gestured to her hair that sparked with excess energy and the wide berth and looks of awe the populace were giving the two, "We have two _well known_ faces, and you're scarier than the bloody _Joker_ with the amount of energy you're releasing."

Hermione grimaced and calmed herself, her hair settled into its usual luscious curls, before she replied, "_Shut up_, Draco."

"Nice comeback, Granger," Draco laughed at the frown that twisted her soft features, "Now smile, we're close to the diner."

She pivoted on her heels and continued to walk down the street towards the restaurant, without another word to the wizard.

* * *

Hermione glanced around _Nuda's_, taking in the décor. Mint blue vinyl booths lined the sides of the diner, while the counter was lined by several stools of the same color; there were two waitresses taking orders from other patrons and one manning the register on the far right of the bar. A small opening held a silver bell and an order rack, where the waitresses gave the cook orders and received the platters.

Only after they were led to a small booth in the corner of the diner did Hermione acknowledge his presence.

Wandlessly she cast Muffliato before addressing him, "_Well_?"

"Mia," Draco began, "We're famous faces, we have to attend social events from time to time, and it's been two months since either of us has made a public appearance."

Hermione shifted in her seat, and Draco could see that she saw his point, "I understand… but why couldn't we attend a different charity event than the one held by _Bruce Wayne_, he's immature and I can't stand him."

"Immature like me or Potter?"

The witch glared at his nerve, "Immature like Marcus Flint- a player with no sense of modesty."

Draco chuckled, "Modesty? This coming from the woman who likes to cook in her knickers and an apron, because, and I quote, _clothes are restrictive prisons, if I'm going to live forever might as well get rid of 'em_."

Hermione's cheeks colored, "What's the point of living forever if you can't cook eggs without clothing sometimes?"

"Sometimes?" Draco questioned, raising a brow, "You do it every single time you wake up before noon."

"Regardless," Hermione said, attempting to change the subject, "Wayne is _wrong_, I got a sinister vibe from him the last few times."

The wizard shook his head, "You only get that vibe, because you've decided to despise him."

"Easy for you to say, traitor, you play golf with him once a month."

He chuckled, "That I do, but does that really make me a traitor?"

The woman across from him pouted, "No, it doesn't." She paused before trying another tactic, "I don't have anything to wear, nothing to match th-"

Draco cut her off, "I'm sure; your wardrobe rivals the collective outfits of bloody Hollywood; between your purchases, what I get for you and what companies send you have enough to last a lifetime."

Hermione frowned, "I'm still not happy about this."

"No, I wouldn't expect you to be," Draco waved his hand in the air, canceling the charm, "Regardless, let's order our food." He gestured for a waitress, who rushed to take the pair's orders.

Hermione smiled at the young woman and ordered, "I'd like the '_British Invasion Burger_'," she chuckled at the name for a moment before continuing, "With extra bacon and sautéed onions, if that's possible. Also, a side of cheese fries and a chocolate malt; thank you."

Draco snorted at her greasy order before turning a charming smile at their waitress, "An ice tea would be nice; as for food… A Chicken Breast Melt with mustard in place of the mayo and a small Greek salad for the side."

The waitress flushed and nodded in reply, "It'll be a few minutes." She scurried away, leaving Hermione and Draco to their dull conversation as they waited for their food.

* * *

As it turned out it only took nearly an hour for their food to be brought to them- not that either minded the delay. They had a bit to talk about, ranging from Draco's crush on a girl they met in Seattle a few weeks ago, to Hermione's personal projects and her frustration with the government breathing down her back to work with them on some sort of weapon.

Draco mentioned the crime syndicate running in the city, to which Hermione compared the _villains_- Hermione sneered while using the word- to the Death Eaters they had faced when they were younger. The conversation branched out to the ludicrous idea, Draco's words, of Batman being a hero rather than a grey simple character with too much money; to which Hermione chuckled and pointed out that they were grey as they come, and possessed more money than anyone ever should.

"Ah, but batman possesses a Potter level hero complex," Draco retorted, "And we do not; thank Merlin for that."

Hermione laughed and noticed the waitress finally coming with their plates, "Very true; it seems that our food is here."

"Finally."

The witch nodded in agreement and gave the waitress a small smile as she placed the plates on the table.

"I'm _so_ sorry for the delay, Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy. We're just so backed up, it's the lunch rush, and goodness, I'm sorry."

Neither bothered asking how she knew their names, as they had been the _Gotham Globe_ only two days ago after Hermione had donated half a million dollars to Gotham's hospital and a week before that when Draco went on that date with a semi-popular actress.

Hermione plastered on a smile and assured her that there was no questioning of their service, "No need to apologize," the witch locked on the thin nametag that lay over her left breast, "Ruth, I hope you have a wonderful day."

Ruth nodded timidly and scurried to the next customer, while Hermione and Draco began to eat.

Hermione chewed two cheese fries and swallowed before asking, "So, we have, what, four hours before we have to attend Wayne's event?" The distaste evident in her tone; however, her hatred didn't stop her from plopping another fry into her mouth.

Draco took several bites of sandwich before answering, "Yes, four and an half hours if you want to appear fashionably late.

Hermione mumbled something about not caring about Bruce's silly party or looking fashionable in any form.

Draco chuckled at his usually composed friend's aggravation.

* * *

Hermione held back the frown threatening to appear on her face and she nervously moved the champagne flute to her other hand. She wasn't planning to actually drink it- as alcohol had never been her forte nor did she want it to be- it was all for show.

Oh, Merlin's beard, did she stand out.

She wore a sleeveless, scarlet gown with a high waist and a jeweled, lace bodice. The front ended at her knee and held a long train behind; a pair of black pumps with a thick, jeweled strap tying around the ankle, giving her small frame four extra inches. She wore a golden bicep bracelet in the visage of a king cobra with rubies for eyes and held a black clutch, both gifts from Draco from a few years ago. Her hair pulled into a tousled looking updo, and her makeup simple- cat styled eyeliner and lips painted a vivid red.

Unknown to the other attendees, she had three hidden knives- one in her clutch and one strapped to either thigh-, two wands, pepper spray, and pair of brass knuckles.

She tapped the sole of her show impatiently as she waited for Wayne to finish his speech to Harvey Dent- the one person, aside from Draco, she could stand at this event. As much as she liked the man- he reminded her of Gryffindor bravery mixed with Hufflepuff kindness- she didn't want to be here any longer than needed, she had a bad feeling about the how the whole evening was unfolding- the obviously undercover cop in the furthest corner from the door didn't help her nerves either.

She looked at the flute's bubbly contents before grimacing and downing it. She hadn't been playing on drinking at all this evening, but she had a feeling she'd need several drinks before this evening was over. She waved over the server for another flute, she thanked the server before looking at the offending liquid and weighing the pros and cons of trying to get wasted on _Perrier-Jouet Belle Époque Rose Cuvee_- which was, in her opinion, overpriced for being such plain champagne; maybe she should have waved down a glass of wine instead.

She shrugged and figured the pros would greatly outweigh the cons, so she moved the flute to her mouth and took a sip.

She pondered how she got here, standing in a Duchesse Satin gown, drinking in hopes that a _fellow _billionaire would shut the hell up. If her mother could just see her, hell, if Umbridge could see how high Hermione had climbed. She cringed at the thought of the pink demon who was her fifth year's DADA professor.

_Merlin_, she thought, _where was Draco anyway_?

She looked around until she saw a familiar head of white blonde hair trotting towards her.

"Well speak of the devil."

Draco walked towards her and raised any eyebrow at her flute; which much unlike his had a deep red lipstick stain on the clear glass, clear evidence of her drinking. He gestured towards it with his free hand, "Looks like someone got a wee bit stressed."

Hermione snorted, "You could say th-"

Her words were cut off by several gunshots and a high pitched scream.

The witch pivoted on her heel to look at the source of the shots, Draco follow suit and cursed when he saw who it was.

Harsh green contrasted against a purple suit, a sadistic grin playing at his emphasized lips. Hermione thought about equally clashing orange hair and purple suits exclaiming _Weasley_ _Wizard Wheezes_ in bright red writing; she frowned at the connection.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen," the madman called out with a mock bow, "It appears that we're tonight's _entertainment_, but before we begin, I have a _one_ question. Where is Harvey Dent?"

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Knife point banter, and more Joker.


End file.
